<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>rock on by lipsticksunrise</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625553">rock on</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsticksunrise/pseuds/lipsticksunrise'>lipsticksunrise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:54:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsticksunrise/pseuds/lipsticksunrise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts, as all too many things do, with a DILF.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Egbert/Dirk Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>rock on</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i... don't really have an excuse for this one. i've always been on the fence about daddy stuff, so i wrote this to try and explore some of that :) hope you enjoy!</p>
<p>title is from msi's "daddy," because.. yeah.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It starts, as all too many things do, with a DILF. The DILF in question is, unfortunately but unsurprisingly, Nicholas Cage. He’s running through the streets of Washington D.C. when John suddenly says, “Hey, want to fuck after this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk blinks, but he commends himself for how fast he recovers. He’s gotten as used to this as he can, since he and John have been together for over two years, but - “Is fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>National Treasure </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting you in the mood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dirk. Look at the screen,” John says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk does. “It’s Nic Cage,” he says, astutely. “Again - is Nic Cage getting you in the mood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck him if you got the chance,” John says, with the confidence of someone that has no doubt that he’s right. Said confidence is… misplaced. “I know you’re all about, like, DILFs and shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not - Nic Cage does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>count as a DILF.” Dirk sits up, lifting his head off of John’s shoulder and staring at him with more surprise than he should have after over two years of dating. “At least not as Ben Gates, since he doesn’t even meet the first letter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John groans and pauses the movie. “Dirk. Being a DILF isn’t about having kids, it’s about being a </span>
  <em>
    <span>DILF</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Dirk gives John his absolute best blank Strider stare. John, after years upon years of being friends with Dave, isn’t fazed. “Listen, you know I’m right. It’s about feeling the DILF in here, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s about feeling the DILF,” DIrk repeats slowly. He holds his poker face until John throws his hands in the air exasperatedly and knocks the remote onto the floor. “Nice one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” John mutters. He leans down and retrieves the remote, balancing it carefully but precariously on the arm of the couch, before turning back to Dirk. Dirk carefully schools his face back into passivity. “And stop making that stupid face!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk reluctantly drops the face. “Look, I get the DILF thing, even though it’s a little narcissistic of you. But can we just finish the movie?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John grins. “Ha, I knew this was getting you in the mood. But wait, what do you mean narcissistic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, shit. He hadn’t exactly meant to say that part out loud. “Just… you’re kind of a DILF, dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looks down at himself with a degree of skepticism that he really doesn’t deserve. He’s gotten both buffer and a little chubbier with the years, and Dirk kind of hates how hot he finds both that and all of John’s stupid, copious body hair. “Really?” John says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, as DILF-y as you can get in your twenties,” Dirk amends, and dammit, now he’s thinking about John with salt and pepper hair and a little more scruff on his chin and it’s going to be a miracle if they get through the rest of the movie at this rate. “But - movie. Finish. Now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I’m a DILF,” John snorts, then, “Hey, wait, but I’m not a dad! Didn’t you just say that DILFs have to be dads?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I mean, technically, yeah,” Dirk says, “but, like, nah. I just didn’t want to tell you that Cage isn’t a DILF because he’s not fuckin’ attractive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take that back right now,” John says. His face is so abruptly serious that Dirk can’t help the way he laughs. The pillow to the face he gets for laughing is worth the distraction from how suddenly turned on he is. What the fuck? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, well, maybe it’s not that ‘what the fuck.’ John’s hot, that’s a given, considering he’s Dirk’s boyfriend and they’ve had very hot sex many times, yeah, he’s got a bit of a DILF vibe, and yep, there’s the problem. Namely the D, namely the way it’s supposed to stand for ‘Dad’ but tacking on just two extra letters makes Dirk’s organs feel like they’re performing sick stunts in his torso in the best possible way. To put it in English, unfortunate euphemism aside, he has a Daddy kink. That John does not and cannot, under any circumstance, know about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just -” Dirk reaches across John and hits play, and John falls silent as the movie resumes. Dirk drops his head back onto John’s shoulder, closes his eyes, and tries not to think about the solid bulk of John underneath him or John’s warm hand on his thigh. He fails. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not even like the Daddy thing is a big deal. It’s certainly not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kinky, relatively, and it’s not, like, the one and only thing that can push him over the edge. It’s just… hot, sometimes. Particularly in regards to John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s embarrassing and just the flavor of weird that Dirk is fine not getting into, really. So he’s never brought it up. And he’s not about to start now, even though the conversation and the small circles John’s started to rub his thumb in, the touch warm even through the denim of Dirk’s black skinny jeans, are both trying to get the words to bubble up in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time the movie reaches its end, Dirk is soaked. He lets himself fall forward just enough for his head to end up in John’s lap, looking up at his boyfriend. He’s not wearing his shades for once, and it’s nice to see John’s eyes without any filter. “There’s some whores in this house,” he says, deadpan. See? Normal dirty talk, for them. No DILFs or Dads or anything else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John turns the TV off and looks down at him, confused. His hand hasn’t left Dirk’s thigh, even with the change in angle. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s some whores in this house,” Dirk repeats. “Get a bucket and a mop, y’know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get a ... Oh.“ John’s face turns a bright red. “And you’re still going to insist that Nic Cage wasn’t doing it for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk lifts a hand in mock defeat. “Oh, you got me,” he says. “It was definitely Nicholas </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cage that made me horny, not my stupid boyfriend that’s been teasing me for the past hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John grins. He catches Dirk’s lifted hand in his free one and laces his fingers through it, giving it a squeeze. “What stupid boyfriend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to fuck or not, Egbert?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand that was on Dirk’s thigh is suddenly… not on his thigh. It slides between his legs, rubbing against him through his pants and boxers, and his breath catches. “Do you think you’re the one calling the shots here?” John says, and he’s still John, still dorky, but his voice has shifted and Dirk shivers. Fuck. So it’s gonna be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Dirk starts. He pauses to think for a moment, unsure of whether he wants to play along or be a bitch, but John speaks again before he can figure it out. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Shh,” John says. The hand that’s holding Dirk’s lets his go and moves to his forehead, gently pushing his hair back. “This okay?” he asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk nods. He wants the movement to be slow and measured, but he probably just looks like a fucking bobblehead. Oh, well. It’s understandable, considering that he’s currently directing 98% of his mental processing capacity into making sure that he doesn’t let slip anything stupid, especially since it’s going to be like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” John says. “C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom then, I am not falling off the couch again.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Dirk laughs a little, thankful for the way that he’s able to regain his composure a bit as John removes his hands and lets him stand up. He takes John by the hand and pulls him up onto his feet as well, then says, “Carry me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John gives him a look. “Really, Dirk?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Dirk shrugs. “Would you rather have that awkward walk where we’re both, like, trying not to walk too fast or too slow, and you’re keeping your distance so we actually make it there even though I keep trying to lean over, and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, shush, you’re starting to sound like Dave,” John says. “Fine, fine, c’mere.” He scoops Dirk up in his arms bridal-style, tucking him close to his chest as he starts down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk grins into John’s shirt and definitely doesn’t gasp when John’s hand grabs his ass. “Can’t even wait, huh,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looks down at him and fake-scowls. “I could drop you, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could,” Dirk allows. He tilts his head up and nips at John’s neck, just below his jawline. “But you won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, abruptly, Dirk is falling. He lands on the bed with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump </span>
  </em>
  <span>and glares up at a laughing John. “Uh huh,” John says, and then his face shifts, his eyes dark as he crawls onto the bed so that he’s straddling Dirk. Dirk’s breath catches in his throat. “Are you done being a shit?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Depends,” Dirk says. “You gonna fuck me now?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Not if you keep this up,” John mutters, and Dirk’s chest heats up in perfect synchronicity with his gut. Fuck. It’s not fucking fair how well he can play a part he doesn’t even know Dirk wants him to be playing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, though, Dirk doesn’t have too much time to reflect on it before John is leaning down and kissing him. There’s barely a moment of preamble before John is licking his mouth open, taking Dirk’s chin in the hand that’s not holding him up and tilting it up just enough to make the angle perfect. Dirk whines uselessly into his mouth and arches up into John as best as he can, which isn’t nearly enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang on, hold your horses,” John murmurs. His mouth moves to Dirk’s ear, nipping at the lobe just enough to make Dirk’s breath catch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consider them held,” DIrk replies. He drops his head back onto the pillows and closes his eyes. John’s hand is sliding down his side, running along the edge of his tanktop until it reaches the hem. “Fuck, John.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew Nic Cage got you in the mood,” John says, more triumphantly than he should be considering the fact that he’s wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you you had a DILF thing,” John insists. His hand is slowly pulling Dirk’s tank up, sliding flat against Dirk’s bare skin as it goes, and it’s way too fucking hot for their conversation. Also, said conversation is way too fucking close to the flashing red zone in Dirk’s brain labeled as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dangerous Territory! Masturbation Only! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Which is a pretty specific label, but… you know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk reaches down and meets John’s hand, grabbing his own tank and sitting up just enough to toss it off and to the floor. “If you keep talking about DILFs, I’m getting up and leaving,” he says. “Also, take your shirt off?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sits back and does, balancing on his heels and staring down at Dirk with a stupid, dorky, adorable grin on his face. “Even though you basically said I’m the ultimate DILF?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never said - yes, sure. Even though I said something </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> that,” Dirk says. “Again, whores in this house? I’m fucking wet, dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That shuts John up for just a moment, his cheeks going bright red before he swallows visibly. “Can I eat you out?” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, you really don’t need to ask,” Dirk says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John grins, then disappears from Dirk’s field of vision as he slides back onto the floor, his knees hitting the carpet with a soft sound. His hands wrap around Dirk’s ankles and tug him forward slightly, and Dirk moves to meet him until his knees are hanging over the edge of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now,” John says, his hands sliding up from Dirk’s ankles to the button of his jeans easy as can be, never mind the way that every touch makes Dirk feel like he’s about to fall apart, “don’t try and do any of that keeping yourself quiet stuff, okay? I wanna hear you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dirk agrees. Fuck. Again - John is being everything Dirk wants him to be, and sometimes it really feels like he’s dancing around the word just as much as Dirk is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” John murmurs. Dirk shudders, and then John’s hands are reaching around his hips and nudging him to lift his ass off the bed just enough for John to tug his jeans and boxers down to the floor. John’s hands come up to rest on Dirk’s knees, not pulling them apart, not yet, anyway, just - waiting. There’s a long beat of silence. Dirk closes his eyes like that’ll make him feel less like John is staring directly at him, taking him in and holding him close somewhere inside. “So, before I start, do you wanna tell me what you’re thinking about up there?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Dirk blinks his eyes open. “What?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” John says. “You’ve been quieter than usual, but judging by, uh, this, I don’t think it’s anything bad. So, what is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk is so, so glad that John can’t see his face, because his cheeks are on fire. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, uh, “It’s nothing,” he says. He… doesn’t have to, though. He could tell John. He could say it, and it would be embarrassing, but maybe John would like it too, and, “Just - did you know that you’re super fuckin’ hot?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” John says. Dirk can hear his grin. “Well, alright, you can just tell me later then.” The hands resting on Dirk’s knees gently tug them apart, and Dirk tries and fails to think of a response as John leans forward and licks directly over Dirk’s clit,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, fuck, John-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John doesn’t reply, exactly, but he flicks his tongue and the only thing keeping Dirk’s hips on the bed are John’s hands, holding him still and steady. “John, fuck,” he repeats, mostly incoherently, and he swears he can feel John’s smirk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then one of John’s hands disappears from his hip and then it’s suddenly sliding into him, no resistance at all, and really, okay, he’s been so fucking keyed up for the past </span>
  <em>
    <span>hour. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It makes perfect sense that he comes as soon as John crooks his finger, rubbing right up against that spot, voice breaking on a high gasp before he slumps, boneless, against the mattress. “Fuck,” Dirk gasps. “Shit. That was way faster than I wanted it to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John slides his fingers out, and there’s a beat before he stands and his face comes back into Dirk’s view. His lips are shiny and wet, and Dirk shudders with something a little more than an aftershock. “Same here,” John says, then, “You need a minute?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Dirk says, dropping his head back against the pillows as he catches his breath. “Can I-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nope, nope, shut the fuck up right now, post-nut clarity is a fucking scam. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Uh, can I suck your dick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looks at him for a long moment, like he knows that Dirk rapidly changed trajectories mid-sentence. But he’s - well, not human, exactly, but he’s got a dick. And it’s hard, the outline visible through his sweatpants. “Sure,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Dirk says. He sits up, trying to swap places with John, when the bed dips and John is suddenly crawling right up next to him, a hand in the center of his chest to keep him down. “Wh-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just stay right there,” John says, his voice dropping back into a territory that has Dirk’s gut clenching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Dirk can question him any more, John tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, then awkwardly swings one leg around so that he’s straddling Dirk’s face. His dick, hard and already beading with pre-come, nudges against Dirk’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This okay?” John murmurs, his hands bracing on either side of Dirk’s head because he already knows the answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dirk says, but then. But then. Instead of wrapping his lips around John’s dick like he really, really wants to, instead of thinking before he goddamn speaks, he says, “John?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sits back slightly, resting some of his weight on Dirk’s chest and furrowing his brows. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk wants to die. Dirk is going to die. Dirk is going to give himself a lobotomy and sever whatever fucking connection lies between his horny brain and his lack of self control brain, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>hello, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not only have they completely moved on from DILFs, Dirk swore to himself that he would never actually bring this up. It’s just … when John’s voice gets like that, and when Dirk can feel John’s weight over him like a promise, and the word’s been half on the tip of his tongue all night - “Nevermind, c’mere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John does not “c’mere.” He shifts a bit more of his weight back onto Dirk - not enough to be uncomfortable but enough for Dirk to feel it, to remember that as informal as they are about all of this, he’s not the one in charge here - and folds his arms. “Dirk,” he says, “you’ve been dancing around whatever this is all night, just say it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Dirk insists. His cheeks are on fire, and he can’t believe that John’s dick is just in front of his fucking face, still completely hard, as they </span>
  <span>don’t</span>
  <span> have this fucking conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dirk,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” John whines. “C’mon, do you wanna get fucked or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I want to get fucked,” Dirk says, exasperated with his shit idiot brain fungus self for opening his shit idiot brain fungus mouth. Christ. His timing could not be worse, especially considering that his heart rate has finally calmed and he could be ready to go again. “Look, I’ll tell you later. Let me suck your dick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” John says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dirk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And maybe that’s it, the interruption, the edge in John’s tone that makes it crystal clear that he’s done with Dirk’s bullshit and is probably going to do something horrible and sexy about it, the carbon copy of every cliche porn scene, that’s what has Dirk burying his face into his hands. The confession is just behind his clenched teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John reaches out and grabs Dirk’s hands in his own, pulling them away from his face and looking down at Dirk sternly. His dick is still fucking hard. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dirk.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk closes his eyes. Part of him wants to tell a lie, pretend that he’s actually worked up about wanting John to fuck him over a desk or something, but part of him knows that he can’t back down now, not when John is playing the part so well and he’s still so, so turned on. “ItsnotabigdealoranythingbutyouknowIhaveatonofissuesandwhateverandyeahsobasicallythepointiscanIcallyouDaddy,” he blurts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John blinks. “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk squeezes his eyes shut and kicks his past self for leaving his shades on the kitchen table. “It’s not a big deal or anything,” he repeats, the words slipping through gritted teeth and more than a little anticipation, “but you know I have, like, a ton of issues or whatever, and uh, so basically, the point is, can I call you Daddy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a silence. Dirk contemplates whether him dying of embarrassment will be enough of a favor to John that it’ll count as Heroic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, though, John speaks. “You… that. Me? Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk opens one eye and peers up at John carefully. His cheeks are bright red, but he’s smiling, a little, and his dick has softened at all. Huh. Okay, okay, that’s… interesting. “Uh, yeah. Yeah? I know it’s - not like, I’m not like, feed me dino nuggets and watch cartoons, but just - yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s smile breaks wide open. “I mean, you do like dino nuggets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because they’re chicken nuggets, the shape has nothing to do with it!” Dirk says, and it’s only when he meets John’s eyes again that he realizes the tension has broken. “But I digress. Do you… want to try it? It’s totally cool if not, obviously, I’m not going to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s hand is suddenly on his chin, his thumb gently tugging at Dirk’s bottom lip until his mouth falls open. “We can try it,” he says, and it might be the hottest thing Dirk’s ever seen until he snorts a second later. “But I have no idea how to do this, do you just… say it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk swallows hard. He can see John’s eyes watch the movement of his throat, and he knows that John knows how fucking turned on he is. “It’s - yeah, or you can say stuff too, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh, okay,” John says. He pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking, before he drops his eyes back to Dirk. The room feels about ten times smaller, like it’s narrowed to just Dirk and John and the barely-existent space between them. Dirk has a feeling that John can probably hear his heart beating. “Um, so, do you want Daddy’s big cock?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk can’t help it. He laughs. It’s so fucking absurd, and John almost certainly stole that verbatim from some shitty porn he saw when he was a teenager. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s only a second before John’s laughing too, genuinely, and he says, “Oh, jeez, that sucked, huh?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Just a little bit,” Dirk says, laughing even harder, and he can’t believe that this is happening with John’s dick inches from his face. “Did you get that direct from porn?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Look,” John says, mock-defensively. “Look, I’m honestly just glad that that’s not it, ‘cause, I mean, I can get on board, just not with … that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, don’t worry, I still have standards,” Dirk says. His laughter gradually tapers off, and then the room falls silent again. There’s a beat. Dirk’s heart starts to pick up again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looks down at Dirk for a moment, like he’s studying him, his hand still on Dirk’s chin, his lips slightly parted. He runs his thumb along Dirk’s lower lip one more time before moving his hand to the bed by Dirk’s head and slowly lifting himself off of Dirk’s chest. “Alright, are you gonna be good for Daddy?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Dirk’s brain shorts out. His heart misses a few beats, his horribly wired synapses fire all at once, and it takes him way too long to start trying to compose an answer. John smirks down at him. “Yeah?” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Dirk says, and then, because it’s there and John’s hot, he lifts his head off of the pillow and leans forward, trying to get John’s dick in his mouth and let his brain slip to the back burner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But - John leans back and out of reach. “Nope,” he says, somewhere between gentle and chiding, and yeah, it’s really no surprise how good he is at this. “Ask first, Dirk.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all of the time that Dirk’s spent thinking about this, being presented with it makes his mouth go dry. “Uh,” he says again. The word is </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, holding onto the tip of his tongue for dear life but unsure of how to actually let go. Fuck, this is embarrassing, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>if it isn’t the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Dirk. “Daddy, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy,” John praises - Christ, how did he even know about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? - but the words barely register as he leans forward and pushes his dick into Dirk’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk has sucked John’s dick something like countless times, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be </span>
  <em>
    <span>used </span>
  </em>
  <span>to it. It’s not ridiculous, but it fills his mouth just enough to make his jaw ache when it’s all said and done, and Dirk’s practiced enough to let it bump the back of his throat without so much as a gag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loses himself in the rhythm of it as he starts to bob his head back in forth in time with John’s small thrusts, groaning when John winds a hand into his hair and tugs at it slightly, and it’s really a miracle in and of itself that he can even hear as John murmurs, “There you go, being so good for Daddy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” over and over again, like a litany or a prayer or a scratched record. Dirk presses his thighs together and thinks he might come in his pants. John is warm and heavy above and in him, and his words feel almost as good as his tongue did. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>All too soon, though, John’s thrusts start to get a little deeper, a little more erratic, and his gasped words get breathier until they break off into an almost entirely unintelligible, “Shit, okay, hang on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk reluctantly lets him pull out and catch his breath, mostly because he thinks he might die if he doesn’t get fucked. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>John, </span>
  </em>
  <span>shit,” Dirk groans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, before looking back down at Dirk with a smile that’s way too bright for the situation. “C’mon, try again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk flushes even more, like that’s a thing that’s even possible. “Daddy,” he corrects himself, and saying it feels like an electric shock. “Fuck, fuck, Daddy, I need-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you need, baby?” John asks. He reaches down and traces his knuckles along Dirk’s cheek, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his voice low enough that Dirk swears he feels it vibrating in his chest. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk squeezes his eyes shut. “I need, fuck, I need you to fuck me, Daddy, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm…” John says, mock-considering. “You do sound pretty desperate, I’ll give you that, but I don’t know if I’m convinced yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a shit,” Dirk complains, opening his eyes again to glare at John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe so,” John says, grinning. His hand is suddenly in Dirk’s hair, yanking it back sharply enough to make Dirk yelp. “That’s not going to get you anywhere, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk takes a moment to catch his breath, the pressure on his hair melting into pleasure somewhere in his gut, and tries to shove his pride as far down as it will go. It’s terrifying, like standing above the rolling waves just before you jump in, and exhilarating, like the first cold shock of the water, to give up control like this. “I,” he starts, “I need you, Daddy, please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> just fuck me, let me be good for you, okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John releases Dirk’s hair and leans down to catch his lips in a kiss, open-mouthed and not much more than an excuse to murmur, “There you go, baby, there’s a good boy for Daddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk whines into John’s mouth, uselessly pushing his hips up into the air in search of friction, contact, anything, and John groans back, softly. Well. Good to know that Dirk’s not the only one affected by this, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John suddenly disappears from above Dirk as he scoots back on the bed and kneels between Dirk’s spread legs. “This good?” he asks. His hands are on Dirk’s hips already, holding them like he’s ready to tug them towards him at any moment, and Dirk’s breath does something funny. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, fuck, it’s good, it’s good, Daddy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he begs, and John exhales long and slow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is going to be over way too fast, you know,” he says. “Can’t believe I didn’t know how into this shit I’d be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk laughs a little, breathlessly. “Welcome to the club.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John gives him another smile, then pulls Dirk’s hips towards himself and pushes in where Dirk is already wet and open. Again - he’s not ridiculously huge or anything, but Dirk really hasn’t been prepped all that much, and the stretch burns perfectly. John keeps going until his hips are flush against Dirk, and Dirk makes a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling, baby?” John asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, Daddy, so good, fuck, you can, you can move,” Dirk says. The hot shame of the words has moved from his chest to his gut, his pride resigning itself to the backseat in favor of how fucking horny he is, and, moreso, how fucking hot John is.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Shit, okay,” John says. There’s a beat, like he’s trying to steady himself, then he gently lowers Dirk’s hips back towards the bed and places his hands on either side of Dirk’s torso. His first thrust is slow, careful, but his second slams into Dirk like he’s already desperate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It knocks Dirk’s breath from his chest in the best possible way, and he reaches up to grasp uselessly at John’s broad back, trying his best to rock his hips in time with John’s thrusts. They find a rhythm quickly, the headboard slamming against the wall in perfect cliche and John’s muttered praise devolving into grunts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dirk does his best to stay coherent, gasping out things he can’t quite believe he’s saying until John leans down and kisses him, open-mouthed and filthy, and he comes with a shout. “Fuck,” he gasps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The aftershocks rock through him along with John’s continued thrusts, just for a moment, until John drops his weight down onto Dirk and groans into his ear. Dirk shudders as he feels John come inside of him, the feeling indescribable but kind of perfect, and he wraps his arms around John and holds him close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was - I liked that a lot,” he says. Well. Duh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John snorts a little, the sound heavy as he keeps trying to catch his breath. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, that’s, uh, we should do that again.” There’s a pause, their breathing the only sound, before John adds, “So, like, how much of a factor was Nic Cage in this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! as always, feedback makes the world go round, or something like that.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>